I stayed up a bit late last night and was unable to assemble my ultimate gaudy suit.  I attack the alarm clock a few times until I’ve lost all chance of assembling the gaudy suit.  I put on the brightest golf shirt I have which is the color of the blue in the American flag, shed a single tear and book it to the train.  I arrive in Act Sci 3092 except a gaudy fate to rain on me delivered by a iridescent red shirt granola junkie.  His friends look at me cockily planning my impeding doom.  Rachael looks at me about to mouth “you’re going down” when her Blackberry starts blinking.  Insult suspended, she peers down for a moment returning to her accosting ashen-faced.  The pointing finger is drawn back into the palm to form a fist, now shaking as she says “he’s not going to be here today”.  Starting from the right side of my mouth the smile creeps across my face as my lips purse to breath the two greatest words in the English language “default”.  Triumph is mine.  Maybe next week will be won in braver combat.